


In Which a Story Is Told

by OlwenDylluan



Series: It Cannot Be Taken From You [10]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Angst, Other, Siblings, Snakes, does it count as kid fic if the kids are snakes and so is one of the parents, no beta we post like desperate men, no matter how you try to keep your kids safe they find ways around it, parenting is hard, revisionist theology, theological revisionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 01:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OlwenDylluan/pseuds/OlwenDylluan
Summary: Rosa and Angelica come home from school, excited to share a new story they've learned. But the fairy tale is a little close to home...This happens afterIn Which Crowley and Clem Have a Talkin my fics. Rosa and Angelica have begun to go to school. Anthony and Datura aren't wholly comfortable with the idea yet, so they stay home.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: It Cannot Be Taken From You [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602421
Comments: 56
Kudos: 391
Collections: Wiggleverse





	In Which a Story Is Told

“I learned a new story today,” announced Rosa, dropping her school bag on the kitchen table.

_Really? _Clem lifted his head from the basket on the windowsill.

_A new story?_ Datura slithered into the kitchen from the sitting room. _Anthony! Rosa’s got a new story!_

Anthony moved carefully through the pet flap Crowley had installed in the door to the garden, joining his siblings.

“How was your day at school, my dear?” Aziraphale said, pouring her a cup of tea. Rosa leaned over the table to take four sugar cubes out of the bowl with her fingers, dropping three into her cup and slipping the last one into her mouth. “Where is your sister?”

“She stopped by the orchard.” Rosa stirred her cup of tea and slid into a chair. As she picked it up to take a sip, Aziraphale heard Crowley’s voice in the garden where he'd been working, alternating with Angelica’s higher tone. Aziraphale poured a second cup of tea and set it at an empty place at the table, putting out two small plates and a poppyseed cake. The door flew open.

“Got one!” Angelica said, tripping though the doorway, managing to catch herself before ending up on the floor. She dropped her own book bag and took the chair next to Rosa’s. On the table she set a single apple.

“Hello, Angelica,” said Aziraphale. She grabbed her teacup and gulped at it. Aziraphale poured his own cup of tea and paused, looking at Crowley as he came in and closed the door. “Tea, my dear?”

“I’ll make a coffee in a moment. Get the French press for me, angel?” Crowley said, shoving Angelica’s bag aside with a foot. Aziraphale reached it down while Crowley washed his hands at the kitchen sink.

“Whole gang’s here,” he said, watching Datura and Anthony wrap around the branches they had fastened to the walls in the corner of the room.

_Rosa says she has a new story!_ Clem said.

“Does she, now?” Crowley began spooning coffee into the French press. Aziraphale passed him the freshly boiled kettle and seated himself at the table with the girls.

“I think we’re all eager to hear it,” he said as he sliced the poppyseed cake. Angelica reached to grab a piece, while Rosa patiently held out her plate for Aziraphale to serve her.

After a nibble of cake, Rosa took a genteel sip of her tea then placed the cup primly on the saucer, centering it in front of her.

“Once upon a time,” she began, “there was a garden.”

“I like it already,” Crowley said.

“It was a beautiful garden,“ Rosa went on. “It had all sorts of flowers and trees, and a waterfall, and butterflies and birds. And there were rabbits and squirrels, and foxes, and—”

_Snakes?_ Clem said hopefully.

“Yes,” said Angelica, her mouth full of cake.

“Well, it sounds absolutely lovely.” Aziraphale smiled at them.

“It was. It was the most beautiful garden on earth,” Rosa said.

“What happens in this garden?” Crowley said, pouring his coffee.

“Well, there was a beautiful princess who lived in it. And a prince, too, but he’s not important. Anyway, the princess had everything she could want. And there was a rule to keep her safe. She was allowed to visit all of the garden except one place. Right in the middle was a special tree so tall that you could see from everywhere in the garden. And she wasn’t to go near it.”

_It’s a fairy tale_, Datura said knowledgeably. _There’s always something the princess can’t touch or go near or look at in a fairy tale._

“Well,” said Rosa, “the princess was very good and never went near it. Until one day—”

“—a snake came to talk to her,” Angelica chimed in. She caught up the apple she had picked on her way in and turned to Rosa. “And the snake said, Hello, princesss. How are you this fine day?”

“I am well, friend snake,” Rosa replied demurely. “And you? How is your health?”

“I am tip-top and tickety-boo,” Angelica said. Her snake siblings giggled. “I say, princesss, have you seen the breathtaking apples on the tree at the centre of the garden?”

Aziraphale put his cup down on his saucer a bit more abruptly than he’d intended. Behind him, Crowley made one of his muffled noises.

“I have not, friend snake, replied the princess. Because I am a good girl and always follow the rules,” said Rosa virtuously.

“Oh,” Angelica said sweetly, “but you mussst. It isn’t fair that you have the freedom of the entire garden but are not allowed to even approach that one tree at the heart of it. Come look at it with me. A look won’t hurt.”

“Well… you’re right. A look can’t hurt,” Rosa conceded.

“And when they got there,” Angelica continued gleefully, “the princess agreed that the apples on the tree were indeed beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful things in the garden. And then the snake said, Princesss, the apples smell very good. Surely it wouldn’t be breaking the rules to just _sssmell_ them.”

“No, said the princess. Smelling them can’t hurt. And she stepped closer to the tree and closed her eyes—” Rosa leaned toward Angelica, her eyes fluttering. “—and she smelled the most delightful appley smell.”

Angelica gleefully wafted the apple about in front of Rosa’s face.

“And then the snake said—”

“Is that the time?” Aziraphale interrupted awkwardly, looking over at Crowley, whose hands were gripping the edge of the counter behind him. “Goodness, I think we need to start getting supper on.”

_Azirafather!_ Datura protested. _The story isn’t finished!_

_Please let them finish the story?_ Anthony pleaded.

_Go on,_ Clem said. _What happens next?_

“The snake,” Angelica repeated, lowering her voice mysteriously, “said, Princesss, with an enchanting smell like that, imagine how it must tassste.”

“I shouldn’t,” said Rosa.

“Well, you’re already right here,” Angelica pointed out. “You looked at it, and you’ve smelled it. One taste won’t hurt. I won’t tell anyone.”

“It _is_ a little strange that I am allowed to touch and eat everything in the garden, except for this one fruit on this one tree,” Rosa said.

Angelica held the apple closer to Rosa wordlessly.

_This is so exciting,_ Datura whispered.

_What’s she going to do?_ Anthony breathed.

Rosa stared at the apple. Then she closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and bit into it.

The three snakes gasped in excited horror.

Aziraphale stood up so quickly that his chair fell over. Rosa and Angelica jumped, turning to face him. The apple fell from Angelica’s hand and rolled under the table.

“Enough,” he said. He turned to Crowley, whose face was pale. “Crowley. Crowley, my love. Would you like some fresh air?”

Crowley was so still that Aziraphale took a step closer to him. “My dear?” he said quietly. “Are you all right?” He reached out a hand and placed it gently over Crowley’s heart.

“What’s wrong with Father?” Angelica whispered, her eyes wide.

“Did we–did I do something wrong?” Rosa said, her own face draining of colour.

Crowley slowly lifted a hand and covered Aziraphale’s.

“S’all right, angel,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Long time ago. Just a shock hearing the girls tell it.”

“You know the story, Father?” Angelica said. 

“Know it?” he said, with a short laugh. “I figured we’d have to tell it to you, explain it, someday. I just didn’t think it would be in the kitchen after school over tea and cake.”

Aziraphale raised his other hand to cup Crowley’s cheek.

“My dear boy,” he said. “How do… how do you want to handle this?”

_Father,_ Anthony said in a small voice. _You’re scaring us._

Aziraphale looked over his shoulder. Clem had drawn himself into a knot in the basket on the windowsill, his head hidden. Rosa’s face was paper-white. Angelica’s lower lip was beginning to tremble.

“Fine.” Crowley set his jaw and gripped Aziraphale’s hand tightly before moving it. He pushed himself away from the counter. “Let’s do this.”

He began pacing, his long legs eating up the space between the counter and the door. He scrubbed his hands in his hair violently, tangling the shoulder-length locks. Aziraphale watched him, his fingers twisting around one another. After two turns around the kitchen too small to contain him, Crowley sighed explosively and said in frustration, “Can’t think here. It’s ridiculous.”

“Would you prefer the sitting room?”

“Yes. No. Oh for someone’s sake,” he bit out, then strode across the room to throw open the door to the back garden and stomp out.

Rosa and Angelica looked at each other. Aziraphale picked up Clem’s basket and held it up for Anthony and Datura to move into.

“Come along, children,” he said quietly. “Let’s not keep Father waiting.”

He gathered them and ushered them out gently. Inside, he was roiling painfully. They had never talked about how to explain Heaven and Hell and the Great Plan to the children. Aziraphale suspected they’d both rather hoped that they’d never have to. And he felt foolish for not having anticipated school being a source of possible introduction to certain theological topics that might lead to questions being asked. Crowley had been placed in a painful position as a result.

Occult forces, he thought, putting the basket on the grass. Perhaps preparing the children for the world beyond their home ought to have included more than “most people don’t go back and forth between people- and snake-shapes, or hatch from pretend eggs because one of their fathers loved them so much, or eat mice, or grow as fast as you do.”

Crowley was standing in the garden, his back to them, hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched up around his ears. Aziraphale pulled out one of the garden chairs and held it for Rosa to slip into it. Angelica sank onto one of the garden benches, her eyes on her father, teeth worrying her lower lip.

Aziraphale could feel the waves of tension pouring off Crowley, and his heart twisted even more. Over the centuries, Crowley had been blasé about his Fall, covering his pain and sense of rejection with sarcasm and flippancy. Working alongside Aziraphale had helped him consider that Falling had perhaps been part of the Ineffable Plan, and being together had helped him to at least begin to process the pain he’d lived with for so long.

But having to unexpectedly tell someone about his past—especially his children— without preparation was traumatic and dreadfully unfair. Aziraphale felt like his own soul was being pierced as he stared at Crowley’s back, the tense shoulders, the tangled hair being tossed in the breeze.

“Fine,” Crowley said again. His body language shifted as he turned, and Aziraphale felt his throat close up as he saw the projected persona of a suave, uncaring demon surface again after so long. “Here goes.”

Aziraphale’s vision blurred and his heart did a queer double beat. Something welled up inside him and he stepped forward.

“Your father,” he said, “was a very brave angel. He saw a situation that required someone to take responsibility for an action that would grant humanity free will. And so he volunteered to be that person, which meant he’d have to leave Heaven forever.”

Crowley was staring at him. The children were silent, their eyes on him as well. Aziraphale took a deep breath and continued.

“So your father left his family and his home, to become the serpent in the garden called Eden. His sacrifice meant that humanity was allowed to make the choice to accept knowledge and the right to self-determination, instead of living in bliss but never knowing anything beyond the walls. It was your father’s bravery that enabled humanity to grow and discover risk, gain, and true joy.”

Crowley’s mouth was open, his cheeks flushed. The children were now hanging on his every word.

“Our choices make us what we are,” Aziraphale said. “Your father allowed that to be true for all of humankind. My darlings, he is a hero.”

Crowley made a strangled noise. He brought a hand up to cover his face.

_Father is a hero!_ Datura cried.

“So… Father was the serpent?” Angelica breathed.

“Your father,” Aziraphale said firmly, “chose danger and uncertainty because he believed in free will and questioning the rules. He accepted eternal exile, rejection, and derision in order to gift humanity with experience and knowledge.”

The children all looked at Crowley with awe. Crowley turned away and put his hands on one of the low walls that divided the garden, leaning forward on it.

“What happened to the princess?” Rosa asked timidly.

“The princess,” Aziraphale said, crouching down to look her in the eye and take her hands in his, “realized that the rule to not eat the fruit of the tree in the centre of the garden was not to protect her, but for the benefit of the system that had created the garden.”

_But what happened to her once Father told her that she could choose to eat the apple or not?_ Anthony said.

Aziraphale looked down at Rosa’s small hands in his larger ones. A moment passed, and then another. The children were waiting, he knew. But he had no idea how to phrase what had happened next.

“She had a protector.”

Aziraphale looked up. Crowley was still leaning on the stone wall, his back to them.

“All this time, an angel had been watching over the princess and prince. He’d been guarding them against dangers with a sword of light and flame. And when the princess had tasted the apple, the angel knew that they would have to embark on a long, dangerous adventure. And so he made the brave sacrifice of giving them his flaming sword, so that they could defend themselves as they quested.”

_Azirafather!_ Clem cried.

“The angel risked his own punishment to help them. And he carried on protecting humanity outside the garden, because he loved them so much. More than that, he chose to protect the serpent whenever they met. He followed his heart every time, instead of the rules, and that was his greatest strength.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley stood up and turned around to meet his eyes.

“Our choices do make us what we are,” Crowley said. “And Azirafather and I have chosen to defend the world, in our own way. And… each other. And now you.”

For a moment there was only the sound of the light wind moving through the garden. Rosa pulled her hands away and threw her arms around Aziraphale’s neck. Angelica ran to Crowley and jumped into his arms.

_You’re BOTH heroes!_ Anthony cried.

_We never knew,_ Datura said in awe, sliding out of the basket and over to Crowley’s feet. _Why didn’t you ever tell us?_

“Well, darlings,” Aziraphale said, bending to extend a hand to Clem, “you see, it’s—well, it’s rather—”

“Delicate,” Crowley said, burying his face in Angelica’s hair, which was as equally tangled as his own. “Not the kind of thing you casually drop into conversation, yeah?”

“You were very brave, Father,” Angelica said into his shoulder. 

“In Azirafather’s eyes, I am,” Crowley said, his voice muffled.

“My eyes are clearer than yours in this instance, my dear,” Aziraphale said fondly. Crowley snorted.

“Right, you lot. Off you go.”

_Why?_ grumbled Datura, winding around Crowley’s legs.

“Because Azirafather and I are either going to get terribly weepy with each other, or snog like teenagers. And we’d like some privacy no matter which way it goes.”

The children squealed and began racing back to the house. Before she left, Rosa gave Aziraphale a fierce hug and whispered,

“I love you, Azirafather.”

“I love you, too,” he said, smoothing her blonde curls away from her forehead to kiss her.

“Well,” Crowley said, watching the children slither and skip into the house. “So I’m a hero, am I.”

“You always have been,” Aziraphale said, straightening up and dusting off his trousers. He smiled at Crowley. “You’ve just refused to admit it.”

“You see the best in everyone.”

“There is so much good to see.”

“I’m not _good_, Aziraphale.”

“No,” Aziraphale said. “And it took me a while to look past my own indoctrination to understand that good isn’t synonymous with right.”

They looked at each other for a moment.

“What you did, there,” Crowley said. “You don’t have to protect me, you know.”

“I wasn’t. I told the truth.”

“From a certain point of view,” Crowley said dryly. “It was just a story, angel.”

“A story about you!” Aziraphale said. “And, I would like to point out, after your initial reaction, they all knew something was up.”

“I’m also not an angel. Haven’t been for a long time.” After a moment, Crowley reached a hand out to Aziraphale. “Don’t minimize what I am,” he said gently.

“I don’t mean to.” Aziraphale took the hand in his, slipping his fingers between Crowley’s.

“I know. But I wasn’t an underdog fighting for justice for Eve. I wasn’t rescuing a princess. I was being chaotic. I was doing what I did—and still do—best. Upsetting a system so it can rebalance in another way. What I did led someone to disobeying God—_God_, Aziraphale—and they were punished as a result. And lo, war and pain and violence were created.”

“But you created the opportunity for so much more, Crowley! You created the opportunity for kindness, because they could choose to _not_ be violent. Their acts of beauty are so much brighter against the horrors. And they accomplish such marvellous things.”

“You’re not going to let this go.”

“Never.”

Crowley sighed. “I was doing a job, angel. A job I was good at. Have been good at, am _still_ good at.”

“Chaos isn’t evil,” Aziraphale pointed out.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said in exasperation. “I was the _reason_ Eden fell. That’s not heroic. That is literally the most villainous thing in the history of things.”

Aziraphale struggled for a moment, then said, “I couldn’t bear to have the children think that you were evil. The word is so—”

“I know.” Crowley lifted their hands and brushed a kiss across Aziraphale’s knuckles. “I’m dangerous. I just need you to remember that. And we’ll teach the children that being dangerous means you do carry a responsibility.”

“That’s exactly what I told them about the angel who chose to become a serpent,” Aziraphale said, smiling up at him.

“You’re determined to argue that I did a good thing, aren’t you.”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, “I didn’t stop you, there in the garden, did I. With my sword of light and flame, as you put it so poetically.”

“No,” Crowley said. “You didn’t.”

“And if an angel can’t do anything wrong…” Aziraphale suggested.

Crowley laughed. “Who’s wily now?”

He pulled Aziraphale closer and they stood together, foreheads touching, taking in each other’s presence. Aziraphale closed his eyes and thought about the children, believing that both their fathers were heroes, defenders of the human race, come what may.

“And they all lived happily ever after,” Crowley said in his ear.

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the fic that ate my last two weeks and defied a conclusion until I waded in with a machete then a needle and thread. The question of "How will they handle telling the children about Eden and Crowley's Fall someday?" knocking about in my head fell into place during a reply to [Lady_Viridis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Viridis/pseuds/Lady_Viridis) in the comment thread of In Which Crowley and Clem Have a Talk.
> 
> Alas... thanks to Aziraphale's protective instinct, the Fall hasn't actually been explained properly yet.


End file.
